


Hijinks & Shenanigans

by Traykor



Category: Blazing Saddles (1974)
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 07:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8882638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traykor/pseuds/Traykor
Summary: Jim and Bart's continuing adventures across the west include being wandering town saviors, occasional Lotharios (Bart), occasionally insecure (Jim), and a love for each other that keeps them together.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TrekFaerie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrekFaerie/gifts).



Bart was going to get them both shot.  
Probably not shot too badly, and they’d surely be shooting back, but as much as Jim admired the skill it took to charm the prey from a coyote’s jaws most of the time, there were limits to what even a silver tongue like Bart’s could get away with. And right now it did not look like they’d be getting away with much.  
Their hides intact, maybe.  
It was almost funny, really. Bart had been accused of many things throughout their travels across the west. Once they’d decided to set off into the sunset together, Jim knew they’d run into their fair share of trouble, and some unfair shares to boot. Bart seemed to attract trouble like a weathervane on a barn top in the prairie drew lightning. You knew it was going to get hit as soon as a storm came up, because it just stuck out so much.  
Bart pretty much stuck out wherever he went, especially as he had a habit of going where folks didn’t think he belonged, and often in as bold and ballsy a manner as could be. It was a habit Jim had had no luck in breaking him of, and if he were totally honest with himself (something he usually tried to avoid), Bart’s propensity for trouble might not have been safe, but it sure was exciting. Besides, it often meant that Jim got to save Bart with some quick shooting.  
They’d fallen into a bit of a routine with that. They’d ride into a town that had the air of something amiss. Bart’d draw all the attention (usually by mere dint of being Black and not seeming to know his ‘place’), and get a heap of trouble brought down on their heads. Jim would get them out of it quick, and then Bart would use that clever brain and massive charm (and not inconsiderable sneakiness) to concoct some scheme to right whatever wrong they had walked into.  
Much rejoicing of townspeople, and usually some manner of reward, followed.  
Originally, Bart would often then end up in the bed of whoever passed for the town beauty.  
Until a few months ago, when he’d tumbled Jim, not the beauty, after a rather exhausting adventure involving horse thieves (and an abandoned mine shaft, four false trails, and three goats).  
Jim had been more than a bit surprised. He’d known for a while now he fancied both men and women, and Bart more than anyone he had ever known, but hadn’t thought someone as much interested in the seduction of women (and seemingly, novelty) would give a thought to bedding a fellow. Bart, it turned out, was even better at reading Jim than Jim thought, and, more importantly, didn’t much mind what parts his partners had, so long as it as fun. He’d offered, JIm had accepted, and Jim had gotten to find out just what left all those women so happy the morning after.  
Talking, it turned out, was not the only thing Bart had a talented tongue for, though Jim hadn’t imagined tongues going quite so many delicate places. Also, turned out the salve they kept on hand for saddle soreness worked fine to ease the way to other places, as Bart demonstrated to Jim just how completely and thoroughly he could take him apart.  
Jim had figured it for a one time thing though, thinking Bart would go back to charming lonely way station ladies out of their knickers and into his bed by the next town.  
Only he didn’t. He bedded Jim again in the next town.  
And the next.  
And the one after.  
Never in quite the same way, mind you. Bart did like his novelty still, so he had something new to try each time, be it where tongues went, or fingers, or whose cock ended up inside who and how. Bart was really quite creative.  
They didn’t talk about though, and by the sixth town that fact was niggling in the back of Jim’s brain and deep in his stomach, like the worm from a bad bottle of liquor.  
After the town had been saved, and Jim was on his side in the cheap inn bed, feeling completely worked over from a long round of sex and a hard pounding, Jim thought he ought to bring it up.  
“What are we doing?”  
Bart turned to him and cocked an eyebrow. “I rather thought we were enjoying the afterglow.”  
“You know that’s not what I mean” said Jim, “what’s this between us? We going to keep doing this, or you going to go back to chasing ladies out of their skirts?”  
“We gotta go calling it something? You’re my friend, best I’ve ever had, and it’s better this way. I like you a damn sight better than any passing lady friend, and all the more for sticking with me.” Bart ran a hand through Jim’s hair.  
“You trust me, don’t you?”  
Jim laughed, “You know I do, and you know I’d follow you to hell and back. I supposed that’s all we need, then.”  
Jim relaxed under Bart’s hands as the caresses grew firmer, sliding down his chest.  
“All we need--you and me. I’m not keen to go looking elsewhere again, if the thought I might was troubling you.” Jim smiled, as once again Bart proved he could read him so well. He’d barely had to voice his worries, and Jim had understood.  
“Now” said Bart, “let me remind you again what we’re doing here.” His hands slipped down to grasp Jim firmly. It was a bit too soon yet--he didn’t have Bart’s recovery speed, being older by a fair bit, but it felt nice nonetheless. Bart would take his time with round two, kissing and touching and teasing until Jim’s body caught back up.  
So it had gone, town to town, saving the day, righting wrongs, and then finding a room to board in and enjoy each other for the night.  
Tonight, however, those plans had been rather completely derailed. Oh, they’d saved the town, as usual (a rich ranch owner this time, who’d been running roughshod over the land of the local farmers--Bart had neatly tricked him into agreeing to pay for better fences).  
The problem was, Bart’s reputation had preceded them. His reputation with women. One of the farmers involved was a lovely widow of mixed race, who had helped them in tricking the rancher.  
Sarah was a clever woman, and tough, as a woman running a household in the frontier had to be, especially a woman not white. She’d been the one to approach them.  
“We’ve this rancher” she’d said, “and arrogant bastard he is too. Won’t keep mind of his herd, and they run right over our fences and trample everything. We’ve lost three fields to the man, and he won’t pay for damages.”  
The solution had been among the more simple ones they’d managed. Bart had invented a tale of a band of cattle thieves, the most vicious, and largest gang ever seen, and spun it so convincingly the man had practically run to get new--and better--fencing put around his herd. They’d hardly had to get creative.  
No, the trouble had come after. The widow had two grown sons. Sons who had become convinced that Bart had slept with their mother, and now owed it to her to make an honest woman of her and marry her.  
They’d brought shotguns, as though their mother was a younger sister deprived of her virtue.  
The elder son was now standing before Bart, shotgun in hand, yelling, while Jim quietly packed up their horses.  
“You can’t just up and leave.”  
“I rather think I can” Bart calmly replied, “seeing as we’ve no reason to stay.”  
“You’re not going anywhere. We aren’t going to let you play with our mother like that.”  
“Well now, you seem like nice young men, but what your mother does or doesn’t do is no business of yours, and I notice she isn’t here with you now.” Jim could see that was the wrong thing to say. Bart may have had a silver tongue, but that also meant he could really put his foot in it when he wanted to. Both boys shouldered their guns, as Bart raised his hands to placate them.  
Jim, meanwhile, unhooked the latch on his pistol and quietly drew it out. He didn’t want to shoot these boys, but he wasn’t about to let them shoot Bart either.  
“Now, now, don’t misunderstand. Yours truly hasn’t laid a hand on your fair mother.”  
“We don’t believe you. Where were you last night then? Mabel at the inn says you fellas only rented one room, and it’s only got one bed in it.”  
Both shotguns were pointed at Bart, as the boys paused for an explanation. Well. It’d be interesting to hear Bart explain their way out of that one. He couldn’t well tell them they only needed one bed, as they both slept in it.  
Bart was clearly gearing up to spin some kinda yarn in the hopes of talking their way out of this, but Jim knew that sometimes?  
Talking wasn’t near as good an idea as a swift escape.  
“Sorry boys” shouted Jim, “but I’ve got plans for this fellow, and leaving him to marry your lovely mother just isn’t in them.’ With that, he popped off a couple of carefully placed shots to startle them back. Thankfully neither boy was much used to intimidating anyone.  
Bart looked like he was considering not going along with a sudden departure, which Jim knew he needed to forestall quick.  
“Oh just get on the horse.”  
“Alright, alright.” And before the boys could manage to stop them, Jim and Bart rode off once again into the sunset.  
“So,” said Bart with a grin, once they were safely away, “just what is it you do plan do with my handsome self?”  
“I’ll show you tonight, if you can avoid seducing anyone else with your mere existence until then.”  
Bart laughed nearly all the way to the next town.


End file.
